The Magician's Vow: A Retelling of The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Part I - Chapter XIV: Birthdays & Burials

Lorelle’s birth day was fast approaching. We had been married for a few years. I wanted to get her a gift that surpassed anything she had ever received. But she was being difficult. She never asked for anything nor did she ever express any sort of dissatisfaction with what she currently had. Her selflessness and contentment were testing me. 

But I was not about to give in her when she said that she did not need anything. And I was determined to get her a gift. Something that had never been seen before, something she would always treasure, and something that she would use for many years to come. And it had to be made with or of magic. 

To get such a thing, I had to go to London’s market. My face was an unusual one in Antvrae, no one was used to seeing it but at the same time they refused to acknowledge their surprise when I passed by on Phantom. They were consumed with fear. Stories of my exploits with fire had long been integrated into the community. No one was sure what to believe and even some of the men who had been there could not be sure if what they saw --even what they felt-- was true. I, and my powers, had become part of a local folklore. And no one looked to prove or disprove it. They left me alone and, for the most part, they did not have to see me.

We left at dawn and, going at a steady trot, arrived in London as sun’s lower end rose up over the horizon. Compared to Antvrae, London was bustling with activity like a hive of bees. Now knowing what it has become, it is strange to think that at one time it was the greatest city in Britain. 

Not known in the city, most people barely looked up as I passed. But one glance at Phantom and they seemed to shrink before my very eyes. Just like most humans, they could not see his magical fibers, his wispy, smoke like frame. To them, he was simply the largest, darkest, most powerful beast they had ever laid their eyes on. If they knew the nature of his very fabrication, they would not simply cower. They would run. 

Other than those terrified looks and dropping jaws, we arrived in the London market with no other delays or incidents. Antvrae had a market, but it was geared towards the trading of food and tools, necessities that the citizens and the outlying farmers had need of on a daily basis. 

But the London market was something completely different. Based on the edge of the Themes River, it bordered a number of docks on which merchant ships were tethered, waiting to be unloaded with exotic wares from all around the world, or ready to be loaded with some of England's finest merchandise to be carried back out to foreign cities or even other major cities down and up our coastline. 

Many stalls had been set up in the open little square beside the docks, boasting of some of the strangest and most beautiful goods one could ever imagine. One particular stand caught my attention with its deep purple cloth and golden silk. But I let it pass by. My eyes locked on a little stand near the northern side of the market. It was more of a ramshackle shed that held out some pitiable amount of necklaces but had a large, closed off section at the back, almost bursting into the front. The vender was setting up pretenses. He was looking for a particular type of customer. 

I brought Phantom straight up to the stand and stared down at the man. He was a rat. 

Tall and made purely of bone. If it were not for the layer of skin stretched out over his frame, he would be a skeleton.

“Come ta check out me wares?” he man said, his lips curling up over his rotting teeth.

“Perhaps,” I said, sliding down Phantom’s side. The man eyed my horse with an interested glance but there was no surprise. 

“What’re ya lookin’ fer?” 

“What do you have to offer?”

Delight sprung up behind the man’s eyes and he scurried over to behind his counter. Spreading his arms to encompass his paltry collection of handmade jewelry, he raised his crooked eyebrows at me, as if daring me to take a better look.